The Actress
by Nightengale14
Summary: A young elf, an assassin with a troubled past, has caught the eye of two very different men. Who will she choose? And how will she adapt to her new situation?


The air was still and cold, it was the middle of winter and the people of Kirkwall were already bundled up in their beds, dreaming of better lives. Not much more than a shadow, a figure walked easily to the entrance of The Hanged Man, glancing over her shoulder before entering.

The smell of sour ale and pipe smoke assailed her nostrils. Mentally cursing herself for choosing the tavern as her strike point, she took the corner table by the far left wall. From there, she scanned the patrons for her quarry.

It was only a moment before one of the servers came to her table.

"Can I get you anything?" He asked, sounding tired and irritable.

"Do you have any open rooms?" She asked quietly, her deep cowl completely covering her face in shadow.

"Yah, we got one. It's fifteen silvers a night, if you can't pay then you can't stay." He said.

"That's fair enough." She stated, handing him the fifteen required silvers. "And take this," She added a sovren to the payment. "Now forget that you ever saw me."

The man looked startled, but nodded and walked away after placing the key before her, he did not trouble her again. Soon after, she spotted the dwarf sitting with three others, a blonde man, a Rivaini woman who's back was facing her, and a Dalish elf girl. It was the blonde who was first to catch her gaze. He tried to look casual, as if he had not seen her, but she could easily see through his rouse. He spoke to his friends in a more hushed tone, probably describing her location instead of pointing it out. The little Dalish girl turned around in her seat, spotted the cloaked figure, smiled and waved happily. The blonde man grabbed her by the shoulder and turned her around, likely saying something less than kind to the foolish girl. The dwarf said something and they all laughed heartily. Then the Rivaini woman sighed, finished her whisky, and walked over to the stranger's table. Sitting directly across from her, Serane recognized her new company. This woman was an old friend of hers, Isabella. Isabella smiled invitingly, still not knowing who she was talking to.

"So, what brings you to this little paradise?" She asked.

The faintest smile crept over Serane's features, Isabella must be quite drunk to ask her purpose before her name. The fact that she was obviously friends with the dwarf gave her pause, she did not want to anger an old friend by killing someone dear to them, but a contract was a contract, and nothing stopped her from taking her mark.

"You should go." Serane said in an un-conversational tone.

"Oooo, the quiet type? All dark and mysterious, I wonder what's beneath that cloak." She slurred.

As much as she wanted to, she could not let Isabella find out that it was her.

"Go back to your drinks, you'll need them soon enough." Serane muttered.

"You know, you remind me of someone." Isabella said.

Serane feared for a moment that Isabella would recognize her, but her fears were put to rest.

"His name is Fenris, he's an elf like you. He should be coming any time now; perhaps you should talk to him. He seems your type, dark and broody and er… what was I saying?" Isabella smiled, her drinking had dulled her mind, and she could only hope that the dwarf was as smashed as she was.

Isabella went back to her friends and continued talking. Eventually, another elf walked in and sat down with them, she guessed that he was Fenris. His white hair, spiked armor and strange blue tattoos intrigued her. For hours, she simply sat watching them, listening to what bits of their conversations she could hear, getting a sense of their personalities, and inspecting their equipment.

The dwarf, Varric, carried a large crossbow the likes of which she had never before seen. The blonde, a man named Anders, was a mage. Fenris carried an impressive great sword. And, as always, Isabella had her daggers.

Well into the night, people began to leave or go to their rooms. Serane saw the tell tale signs of weariness in the dwarf, and made her way into his room to wait until the perfect moment to strike. She found a place, hidden in shadow up in the rafters of the low ceiling. While she waited for the dwarf to enter her trap, she pulled a vial of a purple liquid from the pouch on her belt, she put some of this liquid onto a cloth and applied it generously to her blades.

Usually, she would have used her bow and picked her target off from a distance, but here, she did not have that luxury. Varric would no doubt be stronger than her by sheer muscle, but she would be faster, more agile. Not that it would make much of a difference, she hoped to avoid a full on duel.

At last, he entered his room, closing the door behind him. He yawned, unhooked his weapon from his back and pulled off his jacket and boots. He tossed his necklace on the table and just a he was about to pull off his shirt, he stopped. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, an odd feeling engulfing him, maybe it was just the chill, or perhaps he was simply drunk.

"Must be the drink." He said, shaking his head as if that would clear it.

He pulled his tunic off over his head; let it drop to the floor, then collapsed onto his bed. He took a deep breath, tossing the covers up to his shoulders, and then fell asleep. Serane waited for nearly an hour, balancing just above his bed on the bottommost beam. Once she was able to hear no sound coming from the main floor, she leapt nimbly from her perch to the floor, her soft boots and light equipment making virtually no noise. She crept slowly to the side of the bed where her target slept, unaware that his final moments were passing by.

"Rest well, may you find peace in whatever great home or hall you go to." She whispered.

She brought her small blade to his throat, prepared to make her killing blow. However, she had underestimated her victim. A hand shot from under the covers to grab her by the wrist, pulling the blade from his throat and spinning quickly over the side of the bed, landing on top of his would-be murderer. The movement twisted her arm in such a way that the bones in her wrist and hand were instantly broken. Her hood was thrown back as the heavy dwarf knocked her on her back. Serane did not cry out however, she knew better. The less noise she made, the better chance she had of winning, even with her right hand rendered useless.

"Surprise!" He said sarcastically, while he fought with her for the dagger.

Making no response, Serane realized now that she no longer had any chance of being victorious, Varric was faster than she had anticipated, and far more muscular that most dwarves she had met. Her own blade drew nearer to her chest as she lost the battle to drive it through his vitals, instead of him driving it through hers.

"Who are you?!" He demanded.

Serane gave no reply, only shifted her gaze from the dagger to his face. Her murky sea green eyes boring holes into his amber ones. Making a split second decision, Varric leapt off of Serane and stood, holding her dagger at the ready. Serane got up, pulling one of her many other blades from her belt. She waivered mentally as a fresh wave of pain shot up her right arm.

"What's going on in here?!" Someone said as they entered the room.

Serane recognized the voice as Isabella's and tossed her hood back over her head. Isabella saw Varric first, holding an unfamiliar blade and looking slightly bewildered.

"Assassin!" Varric said to Isabella as she drew her blades.

"Hey! You're the girl from last night!" Isabella said accusingly.

Serane was against a wall, outnumbered and definitely outmatched. Her bow would do her little good at such close quarters, and with her main hand crippled, she could do little to defend herself. Serane jumped onto the dresser, and then jumped from there to her previous perch on the lower beam. As she reached out to grab the support, she made a fatal mistake; she grabbed it with her right hand. As soon as she made contact, she felt the broken bones in her hand move and splinter further, she fell to the ground, landing hard on the wooden boards. She stood once again, stumbling at the dizziness that filled her head. She heard a metallic sound, Varric had loaded his crossbow.

"So, what should we do with her Rivaini?" Varric asked.

"Well I'd like to find out who she is and why she's trying to kill you." Isabella said matter-of-factly.

Serane knew that if her identity were to be discovered, she would be hated by a friend, and killed by the city guard for past crimes. She picked her other dagger up from the ground, knowing that she had nothing left to lose, she charged the dwarf, jumping onto the bed, then springing off of it into the air to come down on him from above. She heard the click of the trigger, felt the searing pain in her chest, felt her body be thrown back by the sheer power of the weapon, roll off the corner of the bed, then land with a thud on the floor boards.

Varric and Isabella walked forward, weapons still at the ready. But it was not needed; she was now utterly incapable of fighting in any way. The bolt had lodged its self into her chest and she had a large, bloody gash above her left eye.

"Serane?!" Isabella cried, running to her side.

"Bella…" Serane whispered hoarsely, a small stream of blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" She asked, getting angry as her shock wore off.

"The dwarf… was to be my next… contract. I didn't know… didn't know…" She trailed.

Isabella lifted Serane's torso onto her lap and shook her shoulders.

"Hey! Stay with me Serane!" She said.

"Rivaini you know her?!" Varric asked.

"Yes! We've known each other for years!" Isabella said.

Serane could only just hear what they were saying, they sounded like they were a far way off. Darkness enclosed around her, suffocating her. Isabella shook her again, drawing her back to the light once more.

"Well… I never thought… that it would end… like this…" Serane half laughed half cried, though no tears came forth.

"Hang in there Serane!" Isabella ordered. "Don't you dare die!"

Serane's breath began to shallow, each breath like fire in her chest.

"You know the rules… Bella…." Serane rasped. "I have been… caught… and… defeated… I must…" She fumbled with her pouch; trying to find something she had always dreaded using.

When she lived with her clan, she had been taught that if a target managed to stop you from killing them, and you were no longer able to fight, then you must die. She had a bottle of a clear, white, watery poison. She pulled it from her bag and brought it to her mouth to pull the quark out.

"Serane are you mad?! No!" Isabella said, taking the bottle from her hand.

"I'll go get Blondie." Varric said, slipping on his boots and running out of the tavern.

"Please… Bella…" Serane said. "It is… our way…"

"I don't care!" Isabella snapped.

Isabella placed Serane back on the floor so that she could tend to the arrow. She grabbed it as close to the skin as she could, preparing to rip it out. Serane grabbed her wrist, trying in vain to pull it away from the bolt.

"Isabella… leave it…" She whispered, gazing fondly at Isabella's worried face.

"Don't worry Serane; Anders is going to be here soon. He'll have you good as new in no time." She said, pouring some whiskey around the wound before bracing to pull it out.

She gave a tug, and the bolt came loose. Serane cringed at the pain, gasping slightly. The blood began to gush from the now open wound.

"Shit!" Isabella cursed, placing both hands over the hole and applying a steady amount of pressure.

Just then, Varric rushed back in with Anders and Hawke on his heel. Apparently, he had stopped by Hawke's house to chat, so Varric didn't have to go all the way to Darktown.

"Step aside Isabella." Anders ordered.

Isabella stood and stepped back, her hands coated in blood all the way up to the middle of her forearms. Anders set to work immediately on her most apparent wound. The bolt had punctured one of her lungs, narrowly missing her heart. Anders' hands began to glow a bright blue, and the flesh began to stitch back together. While still not totally healed, she was no longer bleeding and her lung was repaired. He then moved to the place where she had bashed her head, he was able to heal that quickly. Finally, he took her injured hand into his and began snapping the bones back into their proper position. Once this was done, he fused them back together as best he could. He wondered if she would ever get the full use of it back.

"What happened?" Hawke asked.

"I was asleep, but then she said something and it woke me up, some kind of final blessing I think. She was about to slit my throat but I grabbed her hand and flipped over on top of her, pinning her to the ground."

He absent mindedly rubbed the hand he had grabbed her with, remembering the sickening crunching as her bones snapped beneath his fingers.

"I would have killed her right there but curiosity got the better of me. I stepped away from her, that's about when Isabella came in. The elf tried to jump into the rafters but her hand was to badly injured to grip the beam so she fell right back down. When she stood, her posture was different, sort of disoriented, dizzy. She picked her blade up off the floor, jumped on the end of the bed and launched herself at me from above. I had already loaded Bianca and I shot her in the chest. The impact threw her back and she landed on the ground, hitting her head on the bed frame as she fell." Varric said.

"Your attention to detail never ceases to amaze me, Varric." Hawke said.

"I know. It's a gift." Varric boasted.

Isabella however, did not pay attention to their conversation. She returned to Serane's side, shooting a questioning look at Anders. Her question was clear, and the sincerity in her eyes surprised him.

"She lost a lot of blood, but there's still a chance." Anders said, still confused as to why Isabella was so concerned for the assassin.


End file.
